


belief in or acceptance of something as true

by shipslikefedex221b



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Emotional Manipulation, Gellert Grindelwald Being Creepy, Grindelwald Follower Credence Barebone, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 02:13:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9153025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shipslikefedex221b/pseuds/shipslikefedex221b
Summary: His smirk startled Credence. That is, until he realized just who he was looking at.“Mr. Graves,” he breathed, the words barely audible. The room went cold, and the shock made his heart skip a beat.“Not Graves,” the man purred in a thick German accent, “Grindelwald.”





	

cre·dence

ˈkrēdəns/

noun

noun: credence; plural noun: credences

    1.

    belief in or acceptance of something as true.

 

 

“You are a miracle.”

The words sounded scripted, dripping with a venom that the boy knew to be a drug. He didn’t want to believe them. He didn’t want to believe him. Agony ripped through his body, weightless and weighed down at the same time, being torn limb from limb and yet never allowed the bliss of death.

His words hurt more than this.

“Come with me. Think of what we could achieve together.”

And against all logic, he did. The thought was pleasant.

Then he couldn’t think anymore.

 

 

                The sun beat against his eyelids. A light hand danced across his face, pressing gently to check for injury. His eyes fluttered open, meeting those of a woman with concern written on her features. His pulse jumped upon recognition, hands beginning to spasm as he lifted them to push her away. This woman had saved him before. He remembered, deep in his heart, that he cared about her. He didn’t want her to see him like this.

                “Credence,” she murmured, brushing his overgrown hair from his eyes. He stood absolutely still, eyes searching her face for ill intentions. She offered a smile painted with sadness and pity. He wasn’t used to that.

                “I need to find Mr. Graves,” he croaked, voice raspy from dehydration. The woman’s eyes widened a bit, and she opened her mouth as if to say something, and then changed her mind. She thought for a moment before replying,

                “Let’s get some food in you.”

                She went to lift the boy, wrapping her arms around him, but he cried out as if in pain.

                “No! No, you don’t understand,” he cried, hands above his face in defense, “I need to find him. I need to speak to him, he said…”

                He trailed off, not sure what it was that the man had promised. He remembered the vague warmth that bloomed when he thought of them together, happy. He imagined them off somewhere away from here, wandering through the streets together. He would wonder at Mr. Graves’ magic, and Mr. Graves would offer his warm, warm hands for comfort when needed. He would be free, like Mr. Graves promised.

                “Credence,” the woman began again, snapping the boy out of his thoughts, “Mr. Graves is… well, he’s not quite who you think he is.”

                She sat down next to him and began explaining what had happened, her words painting pictures of endangered men and magical creatures, trickery and hatred, and quarrel within the witches and wizards of the world. They sat in silence for a while, Credence fiddling with the buttons on his jacket as he processed her story.

                He stood up quite suddenly, a cloud of dust rising from his seat. The woman looked up to protest, but she was cut off as the boy spoke.

                “I need to find Mr. Graves.”

                And with a sharp crack, he was gone.

 

 

                Mr. Graves looked different these days. For one thing, he was dead. This other man – Grindelwald, he recalled his name was – had slaughtered him when he was no longer of use. It was strange, really, that Credence didn’t feel sorrow at this notion. He had seen the mangled remains of his Mr. Graves, buried in his basement where no one would care for him. Credence found that he too did not care for him.

                This wasn’t the man who had promised him all those things. He didn’t know this man. This man looked weak. His face was lined with etchings of ancient screams, his brow weary. He was not brave. He was just a poor mockery of the beautiful, magical man who taught him things, showed him things that he had never dreamed.

                He thought distantly of a world where witches were known. He wondered what that world would be like. Perhaps he would have known how beautiful sin can be long before he had been trained to hate it.

                He wondered, too, why people with such magical talents were bound by law to remain hidden from others. With abilities so wonderful, why hide them? He let out a laugh, imagining all the pranks he could have played on his Ma if only he had known of his own talents.

                He turned on his heel, a manic bounce in his step, and made for the door of this sad man’s house, but was stopped by another man. He was shorter than Credence by half a head, at least, and looked as odd as milk that had gone off. He had hair that was cropped short, the color of snow that had been trodden upon for too long to be anything close to beautiful anymore. His eyes flashed two different colors, and his smirk startled Credence. That is, until he realized just who he was looking at.

                “Mr. Graves,” he breathed, the words barely audible. The room went cold, and the shock made his heart skip a beat.

                “Not Graves,” the man purred in a thick German accent, “Grindelwald.”

                Credence faltered for a moment as he thought back to the woman’s words from earlier.

                _Grindelwald is an evil, evil man. His fanatics threaten the peace that we keep between us and the No-Maj. He’ll hurt you, Credence._

                Credence considered this. The other man stepped towards him and extended a bony hand, palm turned toward the sky. Expectant. Ready to take from Credence once more.

                “I can set you free, my boy.”

                And Credence believed him. This was the man who had whispered pretty promises in his ear night after night; the man who he had fallen in love with. He was dangerous, yes, but Credence was used to pain. The scars that Grindelwald could never heal traced up and down his body and he felt every one of them pulse as his heart hammered in his chest. He looked up and met his savior’s eyes.

                He placed his hand in the other man’s. Ready to give. Ready to be hurt.

                It was the only thing familiar in this crazy world of his.

                Grindelwald flashed his chipped teeth and let out a snicker, glad to be in control once more. He gave a great tug, causing Credence to stumble into his arms. The boy looked up at him with strange wonder, looking almost guilty in his infatuation.

                “We’ll do wonders, Credence.”

                And Credence believed him.

**Author's Note:**

> these boys make me wanna fuckin !!! die !!! bro !!!  
> I literally love these boys so much and I want them to be happy but I sat down to write something about them and I was like "but what if graves was dead" lmfao shoot me  
> actually happy fics where my boys are happy are on the way bc i'm a hoe for original graves but I just thought I'd cry over bad endings first lmao I love death :")))  
> hmu on insta (@starringcoffee) to chat abt these crazy kids lmao


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